He could feel his two companions close behind, as he inched along the wall and up to the door. Stevens lowered himself to the floor and slowly peered ...ound the doorframe and into the room. A quick glance was enough to tell him that there were two terrorists sitting at a table drinking something out of mugs. They were armed, but their weapons were lying on the table. From his quick glance he had recognised them as standard SA 80 British infantry rifles.Stevens raised himself and turned holding. Her red leather gloved hand extended towards him as she lead him through into the living room already set up with the leather cuffs and toys, including the gag and blindfold. Inside Damion's pants he began to grew hard just looking at all of the items, "Strip for me my slave. I want to see all of what I get to play with tonight," she said, and of course he did. Setting his leather jacket down onto the chair then pulling off his black cotton shirt exposing his pale muscular body then undoing. Freakishly hot, cheeky and extremely adventurous, it hadn't taken long before his younger brother had been hitting it off with her. It was she who had suggested getting Michael involved in their various sexual exploits. This was the first time however it would be in such a public place. He was only a minute away from the clearing where they'd said they'd meet up and he was already straining his ears to see if he could hear her. With only fifty meters to go and the clearing out of sight, he. All this time, it was self-pity and self-loathing driving her! How could she ignore the simple biological fact that half of her son's genes were hers? Freidal was deadly accurate when he said her son had no more choice in who he was than he'd had in how he was made.Fairness? She'd never given him a chance! Maybe he'd turn out to be a fucking rapist, like his father. What sort of genes did he inherit from his mother? She'd never thought about that, not even a bit.In spite of the discomfort that.
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